Peter Mercier and the Hunters of Artemis

Chapter 15

The food was bad, to say the least. Tough and salted to the point of being a chore to get down, with the excess water screwing with the texture and making it grossly un-meat-like. Still, they crammed it down in dead silence, knowing they needed the energy. It took them a while to eat, and when they were done they promptly shuffled to their rooms. Hiccup and Eret shared, with the chief being coerced to sleep on the floor; "Because he's taller; the bed will fit me better," as Eret had put it. It seemed they were happy just to get some sleep. While Amber tidied up her and Peter's room and tried her best to fix the broken door, the latter tidied up the kitchen, dousing the stove and putting the now half-empty crate under the basin to store until they needed it next.

"You're sleeping on the floor this time?" he asked, walking into the room. He noticed the window, a few rusty metal hinges on the side. "Sure," she shrugged. "I guess it is my turn."

He got into the creaky bed, it feeling much smaller than he'd remembered. His feet nearly went over the edge. "Goodnight," he sighed, eyeing the window. She returned the sentiment, laying on her coat to his right on the floor, below the nightstand. "Goodnight, Peter. Sweet dreams."

Amber woke many hours later, suddenly very cold. A whispery breeze lulled her to lucidity, and after a minute she stood up to see Peter had vacated his post. Seeing a small lock flipped open at the base of the large circular window, noticing it left ajar, she yawned. She couldn't see outside, but the sounds of crickets and a few birds told her it was about sunrise. "Peter?" she quietly called, craning her hand to open the window. "I'm up here," he answered, equally calm, his voice a lot louder than she thought it'd be. "On the roof."

Not responding right away, she grabbed her coat and did up the top two buttons, putting up her hood before fully opening the window. She peered her head out to see a brilliant array of flickering white stars above the stubby trees, a dull, gradient red spot- which Peter's foot blocked most of the light of- at the horizon pulsed as it languidly rose over the spot of beach that peeked through the clearing. The full moon shone brightly in the night sky, watching over them as well.

"How do I get up?" she asked. He leaned down and extended a hand. "Climb out and stand on the window sill and lift yourself," he explained. "I can help."

She took his hand, doing as he instructed and climbing up onto the roof. The shingles rattled as she slid across them to sit beside him, criss-cross. "What are you doing up here?" she asked, rubbing her arms. "Couldn't sleep?"

"I slept fine, aside from a few bad dreams," he responded quietly, almost in a whisper. His eyes didn't leave the sky, darting from constellation to constellation. "Woke up a couple of minutes ago and decided I wanted some fresh air."

"So, you risked falling off the roof?" she attempted a joke. He didn't answer right away, letting his feet swing off the edge of the roof for a few seconds. "It's not that bad," he replied. "I used to have a fear of heights. Was never able to come up here like this, as much as I tried. As much as my parents wanted me to try," he pointed to the sandy spot a few hundred yards away. "We usually had to settle to laying on the beach and doing it there. I prefer the view, though."

"So, that's the real reason you came up here?" she guessed, looking at him. "To make them proud?"

He sighed. "When you put it that way, maybe," he shrugged. "You know, I like to think they can see all of this."

She bit her lip, scanning the ground for a moment. "I get that," she said. "There are moments when I wish my father was still here. Just so I could hug him, maybe tell him about some of the things I've seen outside his fortress."

"How was growing up with him like? Was he strict?" Peter asked, meeting her gaze. She shrugged, looking away. "He was so normal, aside from being mortally obsessed with dragons and a little overprotective. I ran away because I didn't like what he was planning with the Hidden World, and the way he treated his guards and servants painted a very different picture than how he acted around me. Otherwise, he was your average, by-the-book dad."

"Did you stay at the fortress?" he asked. she nodded. "He never let me leave the island. But it wasn't that bad; I had his entourage to keep me company when he went away to chart out a new project or do business."

"Did you know anyone in his 'entourage' named Paul?" Peter asked, deliberately slow. "Of course I did," she eyed him up and down suspiciously. "He was his brother. I grew up around him at the fortress."

"I hope I'm not the first person to tell you this, Amber, but he's dead," Peter somberly delivered, not even phased at Paul's relationship with his captor. "And he's also the root of that 'incident' at the Hidden World those two keep talking about."

"What happened?" she asked, shock dripping in her tone, her voice almost breaking. "He was the warden at the prison, Henrique forced him to beat me," Peter sighed. "He killed himself after I tried to go after him. Your father told all of his men to do the same if they were captured or defeated, but Paul was the only one I know of who followed through. I think Henrique had made him think he'd kill his family if he was caught. And I know firsthand; it wouldn't be that far-fetched to think he'd find them eventually. It didn't even take Eret a month to return Paul's necklace."

Amber went silent. "I didn't know," she finally said, after what felt like an eternity of listening to the crickets chirp in the background. Her voice was fuller now. "I thought he'd run away like me first chance he got."

"Not everyone's that lucky," he admitted, brushing his blonde hair out of his eyes. "I would've run away if I could, but my parents didn't tell me about Henrique. Ever. And it cost me five years of my life. Both of us."

"Actually," she interrupted. "To be honest, the last five years, apart from the hunters tracking me down? It felt like I was free," she swallowed, shifting around so her feet hung off the edge as well, but she kept hers still. "I'd rather be safe, of course, but we don't always get what we want."

"Couldn't agree more," he chuckled, starting to climb back down to the windowsill. "Let's go back inside. Maybe we can pick some berries for breakfast."

"Maybe," she agreed, getting a final look at the scenery, taking in the sky and rising sun. "Hopefully it'll turn out better than dinner."